Misguided Ghosts
by harvestmoonrox
Summary: It was a year later. She was gone. They'd accepted it, and were trying to move on...so why did she keep reappearing?
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N: Hello all! This is my new project. One of them, at least. :D Thank you for clicking upon my story! Read and review!)**

As Carlos Garcia drove through the streets of Los Angeles, California, he couldn't help but notice it was cold outside, even for L.A. It was early Fall, although no leaves were falling off trees, no kids were shedding their shorts and T-shirts in favor of boots and jeans. He frowned a little as he sped past a couple holding hands, on their way to the park.

She would have been 19 today. It was October 11th, at 12:03 PM.

They would've been together just shy of a year and three months.

But she was gone. As much as he hated to admit it, she was. Her body had been discovered and they ruled her death as a murder, even though they didn't have a culprit.

At one time, people thought it was him. Of course it wasn't him. That was proven when all his alibis and lie detector tests checked out.

Carlos turned on the radio to cancel out his thoughts. He mindlessly turned to Hot Tunes Radio, the corresponding radio station to Hot Tunes TV.

"—_and happy, happy birthday to you, Naomi Bassett!"_

Carlos's breath caught in his throat. He recognized the voice of TV personality Melissa Harrison. She was talking about her. Naomi. His Mimi Bee.

"_May you rest in peace," _she said, as music began, _"and now, I think it's time to play Planned Insanity's first single, ever, February Air!"_

Not having had a particular destination in mind, Carlos pulled over in a random parking lot. He bit his lip. He hadn't listened to Naomi's music since she disappeared; he couldn't bring himself to. His hand reached for the knob.

"_If you don't believe me,  
>If you don't like my plans"<em>

He froze. He completely and utterly froze.

He'd forgotten how beautiful her singing voice was. He was ashamed of himself.

"_You mustn't tell me  
>How I know your face like the back of my hand.<br>We walk the city,  
>I talk so you understand<br>So won't you tell me  
>How I know this place like the back of my hand?<em>

_My arms get cold, in February air  
>Please don't lose hold<br>Of me, out there"_

Tears. Tears were streaming down his face. Cold, wet, and salty, they reminded him just how much he had loved Naomi. Why was he thinking in past tense? He still did. He never forgot. He was always reminded. Every time she crept into his mind. Every time she was mentioned.

* * *

><p>As much as Karli May Smith hated to admit it, even to herself, she felt like crying. Like breaking down on the middle of the kitchen floor in her apartment, curling into the fetal position, sucking her thumb like a little baby.<p>

She'd have to settle for curling up with a pillow on the couch, the radio blaring Hot Tunes Radio from her bedroom's open door.

It was October 11th. Today would have been Naomi's 19th birthday.

And thus, Hot Tunes Radio had decided to play February Air, the first single Planned Insanity ever released. Naomi had been the lead singer, and played the keytar. Karli sang and played the guitar. Ariel sang and played the guitar as well.

Karli was the "boy" of the group. The tough one. The strong one. The loud one.

She was the one people came to when they needed cheering up.

She shouldn't be feeling like this. So depressed. And yet, she couldn't help it. She brought it on herself. She turned to Hot Tunes Radio because she figured Naomi would be mentioned.

Never had she ever thought she'd want to cry this much. It felt out of character, wrong.

"_I know you're near me  
>I know you understand,<br>Say that you're with me  
>Do you know my face like the back of your hand?"<em>

An eerie feeling washed over Karli. The lyrics to the song seemed to be speaking to her, literally. Sure, she knew well enough that this song had been written for Carlos such a long time ago when Naomi was pursuing him, but…

"_My arms get cold__  
><em>_In February air__  
><em>_Please don't lose hold of me out there_

_My arms get cold__  
><em>_In February air__  
><em>_Please don't lose hold of me out there."_

* * *

><p>Aimee Rosalie Jameson sat with Logan Mitchell, Kendall Knight, James Diamond, and Ariel Mendoza, biting her lip, a Planned Insanity demo in her hand. Reading the cover, it was "Still Waking Up," the first demo the band had ever recording. Karli, Ariel, and Naomi's glossy and smiling faces stared back at her, Logan staring at her as well.<p>

"Aimee," Logan said quietly, looking at the CD cover as well, "you don't have to do this…"

A heavy silence follow. Logan wondered for a moment if Aimee had heard him.

"Yeah, I do," she sighed, looking at him. "The magazine I intern for is making me write a piece on Naomi and Planned Insanity's music. Her writing would be best if the music was fresh in her mind; unfortunately, this also meant that whatever feelings were stirred up with that would be in her mind as well.

"Take your time," Kendall suggested. "Your deadline's in a week."

"Yeah," James said, "and it might help to listen with it with her band mates. Don't listen to it alone."

"I'll listen to it with you," Ariel suggested, smiling a little. "I've been neglecting my guitar and I need to hear what I sounded like in the first demo."

"No thanks," Aimee said, a bit coldly.

Another silence followed. Aimee had that affect on people sometimes. Ariel began tapping her foot. Aimee's eyes went from left to right. She noticed a bystander had been watching the exchange.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped. The boy's eyes widened and he walked away.

Aimee stood up, demo in hand. "I'm going to my apartment." She left without another word. When she finally reached her room, she climbed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Naomi, Naomi, Naomi…why had Naomi been taken away from her? Why?

A tear escaped from her earthy green eye. She curled onto her side.

"Naomi, I love you so much," she whispered, biting her lip. "You're my best friend in the whole wide world. Please don't forget that, okay? Never forget that…"

Yeah, maybe it was a little weird she spoke to Naomi. But she didn't care.

"Today's still your day. It's still your birthday. I don't give a damn where you are, alright? Today is all about you."

* * *

><p>As Ariel mindlessly copied the guitar in some random Lady Gaga song that her iPod pulled up while on shuffle, some hours later, her mind drifted, and it showed as she worked.<p>

She was not only losing her focus, but she was rusty. This was not good for guitar playing. She stopped after a few minutes.

There was nothing to do. Nothing she felt she really should do. Going out and having fun and Naomi's birthday was pointless without her there. No one would join her anyway. Everyone was moping and cranky.

As well they should be. She felt a little guilty that _she _wasn't mopey and cranky. She couldn't bring herself to, not that she wanted to. Everyone else just seemed to be feeling more than she was.

Did that make her a bad person?

If Naomi had been there, she would've said that it didn't. That everyone grieved in their own ways and some got over deaths faster than others. That that was okay, "'cause everyone is different," and then, knowing Naomi, she would belt out a lyric or two from "Born This Way" by Lady Gaga or "Just The Way You Are" by Bruno Mars or something along the lines and crack a grin.

And then Ariel would laugh, and Naomi would laugh, her light, airy laugh she did when something was averagely funny, or quite possibly the loud cackle she did when she found something hilarious.

At least, that's what she thought. There was no way to know for sure. Not anymore, with her being gone and all.

Ariel missed her.

They all missed her. Carlos, James, Kendall, Logan, Karli, Aimee…they all missed her.

Ariel sat her guitar aside, picking up her iPod, and using the radio function.

She turned the dial to Hot Tunes Radio.

"_So baby don't worry,  
>You are my only<br>Even if the sky is falling down.  
>You'll be my only,<br>No need to worry,  
>Baby are you down, down, down, down, down?"<em>

Ariel recognized the song as being "Down" by Jay Sean. She smiled to herself and danced a little, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

Wait one moment. Naomi had loved this song. Naomi…

Ariel reached her hand out, and grabbed the iPod.

Abruptly, there was static. The light on her iPod flickered.

"_I know you're near me!"_

Ariel froze as the random lyric from "February Air" was belted out from the offending device in her hand.

It sounded so real. It sounded like Naomi was right next to her and yelled that into her ear.

"_I know you understand!  
>Say that you're with me!<br>Do you know my face like the back of your hand?"_

"Yes?" Ariel spoke, half-responding, half-joking.

The light on the iPod quickly shut off.

She tossed the iPod aside. Jay Sean's voice blared once more.

"Freaky," she murmured, crossing her arms, willing the goose bumps on them to settle.

Surely Naomi hadn't just talked to her.

**(A/N: Songs used: February Air by LIGHTS and Down by Jay Sean. :D)**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N: Here's chapter two! R&R. Reviews, especially good ones, make me smile, make me want to update, and get you COOKIES!)**

Her name was Kennedy Sims. She was seventeen years old, she loved her hair to be cut short and dyed brown, she hated music with a passion, and she's been living with gangsters ever since she was twelve and her druggie mom kicked her out.

At least that was what had been told to her over one year ago when she awoke one morning. She had had no recollection of who she was, where she was, or, _why _she was, high as a kite, lying on a ratty mattress with her clothes off in some shady room she couldn't remember.

And it'd never felt right to her. So she'd accepted it at the time, hoping that she would discover something to ease her mind.

She didn't.

So maybe what Luke had told her was the truth.

It was October 11th, and Kennedy was home alone. Luke and the boys were out, taking care of their "business," and Kennedy was cooking, and cleaning, trying to make their shitty two bedroom apartment on the south side of Chicago look nice.

That was quite the task.

The walls were bare and white. Well, more of an off-white. A slightly dirty white. The carpets were gray and there were only two windows in the whole goddamn place. One in the kitchen, one in the living room. In her and Luke's room, the room she'd first awoken in over a year ago, was a queen mattress with two pillows on the floor. A wooden dresser was off to the side, black paint chipping off. A single light bulb lit the room when the light was turned on. And finally, the room contained one tiny TV.

She hated it. Hated living there. Hated living with gangsters. She didn't hate Chicago, don't get her wrong. Chicago was a great city.

She hated Luke.

Lucas Isaac Romo had been a gangbanger since he was eleven. He met her when she was thirteen, cold, hungry, out on the streets, when he took her in and allowed her to live with him, and he says she's lived there ever since.

And it really bothered her that she couldn't remember any of this.

Luke tells her that she loves him. And that he loves her too and that they're going to be together forever.

Kennedy didn't like the sound of that. Luke was scary. But she was never going to tell him that.

He was scary when he was drunk, scary when he was high, scary when he was pissed; but he was never, ever as scary as when she listened to music.

Luke didn't like her to listen to music.

_Luke _listened to music. He listened to music whenever he was in the car, or when his buddies were over, or really, whenever he felt like it.

But Kennedy was not allowed to listen to music. Occasionally she was, but overall, no music for Kennedy. When she did listen to it, she didn't hate it like he said. In fact, she loved it. Sometimes she snuck and found ways to listen to it when he wasn't home.

Like right now…

Biting her lip for a moment, Kennedy thought. Finally she got up and went to her room, going into her dresser draw with her tampons and pads. There she hid a tiny radio player for moments such as these.

After it was plugged in, she turned into a random station.

"—_Wake Up Chicago correspondent Tiffany Walsh here, taking a moment to wish Naomi Bassett, lead singer of the band Planned Insanity, a happy, happy birthday! May you rest in peace!"_

Happy birthday was sang for a moment.

"_PI wasn't that popular, but a friend over at Hot Tunes Radio in L.A. just told me about this band, and, I gotta say, I love their music Ladies and gents, I'm gonna play their first single for you, February Air! Enjoy."_

Music was cued. Kennedy bobbed her head a little, enjoying the music.

"_If you don't believe me  
>If you don't like my plans,<br>You mustn't tell me  
>How I know this place like the back of my hand"<em>

For the oddest reason, the song was familiar to her. Thinking for a moment, she felt like she may know the words.

"We walk the city," Kennedy whispered, in unison with the singer.

Her eyes widened.

Kennedy. Sounded. Exactly. Like. The. Singer.

"I talk so you understand," Kennedy said, in perfect unison once more. "So won't you please tell me…how I know this place like the back of my hand?"

A flash of a boy's face ran through her mind. A boy she didn't recognize, but her seemed extremely familiar.

His hair. He had dark, black hair. His skin was dark. His eyes were puppy like and smile was enchanting.

And as quickly as he appeared…he vanished.

Kennedy heard the sound of footsteps in the other room. She quickly unplugged the radio, and put it back in its place.

Luke opened the door seconds later.

"Kennedy, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "Nothing at all."

**(A/N: Dun dun dun! :O Luke cannot be trusted! In case you couldn't figure it out...Naomi is Kennedy. :P)**


End file.
